His Unknown Weakness
by theblackeden
Summary: PREQUEL TO "THE ONLY ONE HE EVER LOVED": Ms. Angeline is confused when she discovers she is a witch, but Hogwarts turns out to be the best thing that ever happened to her. She discovers secrets to her past, and meets some of the best friends she will ever have. But there's one downside: Tom Riddle is obsessed with her, and is determined to have her, no matter the cost.
1. Chapter 1

"Emily, darling, the guests are starting to arrive! Come downstairs!" called her grandmother's voice. Emily Renee Angeline Smith sat in her room, debating as to whether or not she should attempt to care about what she looked like for once. Her dresses were strewn across the floor and her mirror was smudged with makeup and fingerprints. Emily lay sprawled across her bed, gazing at the ceiling, her long brown hair splayed over the bed like a thick, glossy curtain.

"Be down in a minute, grandma!" She shouted back, irritated.

"You said that an hour ago!" she heard her snap, "Pull yourself together young lady, and get down here!"

Emily grabbed her pillow and shoved it over her face, suppressing a violent groan. She waited until she could hear her grandma's stilettos trotting off down the hall before sitting up right, and massaging her fingers over her tired face.

"Right…" she hissed. She got up, rolled her neck, and charged back into the mess of dresses on her floor. Emily carelessly flung them, one by one, over her shoulder until she settled on a simple blue sundress. She shoved it over her head and trudged over to the mirror. Emily looked over her complexion with yet another sigh, and decided some chap stick and a swipe of mascara would do. She even plucked up enough effort to rake a brush through her hair.

Coming down the stairs, Emily cringed. Many of the adults had already arrived and the house was pretty crowded. There were women who wore permanent scowls, and looked to be in their mid-forties, wearing long pencil skirts, and perfumes that smelled like fancy department stores. The men were all balding, smoking cigars, and parading around in musty million dollar suits. Everyone looked as if they were too important to be there. Emily could smell the stench of high class wealth radiating off their saggy skin.

This was Emily's world. She had grown up knowing the wealth of the elderly, and constantly despised it. She hated being the youngest one whenever her grandparents had parties. People looked at her like she had the intellect of a piece of styrofoam. The thought of it still made Emily's blood boil, but over the years, she had developed a sense of confidence that ensured the adults would not mistake her for some silly child to fetch them more caviar. She held her head high, arched her back, and stepped between guests, praying no one would bother to notice her.

"There you are! Finally!" cried her grandmother's shrill voice from amongst the crowd. Emily could feel her hope slithering away, as a bony hand clamped over her wrist and dragged her off.

"Grandma, please. I'd like to go see granddad!" Emily snarled.

"This is more important than your old man! Now, chin up, eyes forward… I'd like you to meet someone very special."

Her grandma gestured to a pair of highly sophisticated looking people, who were holding their wine glasses in a bored manner. Emily repressed the urge to hiss and roll her eyes. Instead, she put on a painfully fake smile.

"Mr. and Mrs. DeAngelo!" Her grandma squealed. "This is my daughter, Emily Renee! Emily, Mr. and Mrs. DeAngelo practically run the Oxford Board of Education!"

Emily could feel her teeth grinding down to stubs. "Is that so?"

"How do you do young lady?" said Mr. DeAngelo, offering her a meaty hand to shake. Emily tried to take it as daintily as possible.

"Emily hopes to go to Oxford, don't you dear?" her grandma proceeded. Emily's smile vanished. _No, _she thought_, I don't, but you sure want me to. _

"Well Oxford credentials are high, and we only take the best of the best, young lady. You would have to show us something you could offer the school." Mrs. DeAngelo slurred. "What are you good at?"

Before Emily could answer, her grandmother cut her off.

"Emily is the top of her class at school! She's enrolled in the highest, most advanced classes that someone her age can take. She's also very responsible and studious!"

"Yes, yes, but what does she offer that's different?" Mr. DeAngelo asked. Her grandma opened her mouth, but Emily jumped the gun this time.

"I dance, sir." She said. Mr. and Mrs. DeAngelo looked at her curiously, almost like she was joking. The same look had been cast upon Emily every waking moment of her childhood, but she stood her ground.

"You… dance?" Mrs. DeAngelo laughed, "And are you any good at it?"

"I like to think so, yes," Emily snapped at them. Her grandmother chuckled nervously.

"Dancing is a hobby of hers…" she tried to intervene, but Emily cut her off once more.

"No, I like dancing. I would very much like to study it, and perhaps become a professional someday!" Emily pronounced. This time, Mr. and Mrs. DeAngelo laughed heartily, clutching their glasses as the wine splashed about.

"Child, no one studies the arts anymore. It's a foolish career path to choose." Mr. DeAngelo chortled.

"I kind of like this one, dear," Mrs. DeAngelo said, "she reminds me of myself when I was filled with youthful stupidity."

They laughed that annoyingly posh laughter that all snobby elders used. Emily clenched her fists together.

"I beg your pardon! I'm not stupid!" she insisted. Emily felt her grandmother attempt to guide her away, but she whipped back around.

"Dearie… why don't you go find granddad, like you said you were going to?" she pleaded.

"Yes, yes child. Run along. I think we're done here." Mr. DeAngelo sneered. Emily's face turned beet red and she approached the old couple as civilized as she could.

"Good, because I would rather rot in the cellar than go anywhere near your snobby, tight-ass school." She hissed. Mr. and Mrs. DeAngelo's faces turned sour immediately.

"How DARE you! You insolent little-" Mrs. DeAngelo began, when suddenly, there was a loud snap from above.

It took everyone a moment to realize what was happening, by which time the chandelier had begun to fall. People screamed and darted out of the way. It violently crashed onto the tile, sending glass shards everywhere; the intricate crystals and handmade golden rims were scattered around the floor in pieces. Mr. and Mrs. DeAngelo, who were only feet away from the chandelier, flung themselves backwards to avoid getting crushed. From the ground, the couple looked up, their faces ghostly pale, and their expressions utterly terrified.

Emily realized that she had hardly moved during the accident, until commotion broke out once more, and brought her back to her senses. She blinked, and began to walk towards the door.

"My apologies everyone! That chandelier is quite an antique. Its hinges must have been weak," she heard her grandmother say before she slammed to door shut.

Her grandparent's estate resided on the edge of a beautiful lake. In the darkness of the late evening, the stars glittered against the murky waters that rippled as the wind brushed over it. Emily removed her shoes and began strolling along the water's edge, letting her feet sink into the dirt. Her grandma would disapprove. It was probably very improper for a lady to get her feet dirty. As she walked, Emily found a pebble and began to mindlessly nudge it with her toe.

She had wanted to chandelier to fall, and so it had. Things like this no longer startled Emily. Ever since she was eleven, she had grown accustomed to weird things happening. She noticed they only happened when she was feeling a powerful surge of emotion. She was infuriated at her grandma, at the DeAngelo's, at the entire situation! Her whole life, Emily had always felt that something was missing. She was lonely, and desperate to find someone she could relate to, but in the end, there was never anyone. Even her own parents had abandoned her, and left her here to rot in the luxury of old age.

"Oi! There you are sport!" called a raspy voice. Emily smiled. Her granddad put a comforting hand on her shoulder and walked with her.

"Hi granddad." She sighed.

"Oh, I know that tone," he pressed. "Something on your mind?"

Emily gave a dramatic shrug and leaned down to pick up the pebble.

"Just grandma."

"Ah, don't let the old prune get you down! She's only doing what she thinks is best for you." He said casually, shoving his hands into his old jean pockets. Her granddad was the exact opposite of her grandma. He enjoyed luxury, sure, but he also liked the simple things: wearing sweatpants on Sundays, fishing with his friends, playing board games…

Only, Emily never saw him. Her granddad was an engineer, and he loved his job so much that he couldn't bear to retire. He was gone for almost 12 hours a day. Same could be said for Emily's grandma as well; when she wasn't nagging her about everything, she was out being a sophisticated old prat elsewhere. Emily was left alone a lot, but of course she'd never let anyone else know how much it bothered her. She already felt like a heavy burden. She didn't need to worsen it.

"There's something else though," Emily continued, chucking the rock over the pitch black waters, listening to the splash it made as it fell beneath the surface. "Granddad, sometimes I feel like I don't belong here. I feel so… out of place."

"That's just being a teenager sweetheart," her granddad said consolably, "everyone goes through it. You'll grow out of it eventually."

"Yeah, I guess." Emily said, unconvinced. Her granddad sighed and leaned in next to her. They both spent a moment just looking at the sky.

"You know that book series you're obsessed with?" he said. Emily smiled.

"You mean… Harry Potter?"

Her granddad chuckled, "when I first gave you the books for Christmas, you wouldn't put them down for nothing. And when you finished the series, you read it all over again."

"It's a good series!" Emily said defensively, smiling wide.

"Well, that bloke Harry, he didn't feel like he fit in anywhere in the beginning, right? He was as big of a misfit as they come. But in the end, he found a place where he belonged. And I promise you'll find that place. You just have to give it time." He said. Emily nodded.

"I suppose you're right. I'm being silly."

Her granddad stood with a groan.

"Oh well, at least you're not your grandmother. By the way, did I hear something crash?"

"Yeah, um…" Emily scratched the back or her neck awkwardly. "The chandelier kind of fell, and… uh, almost hit the DeAngelo's."

There was a short pause. Then, her granddad burst into laughter. His guffaws were loud and warm-hearted. Emily began to laugh too,

"Oh lord!" her granddad say, wiping away a stray tear, "I probably shouldn't enjoy that so much, but I never liked those DeAngelo snobs."

"No one was hurt," Emily assured. Her granddad placed a supportive hand on his stomach and sighed.

"Well, I suppose I should get back and help your gran clean up the mess." He continued. "And by help, I mean clean up the whole thing myself."

Emily nodded, and looked out at the lake.

"I'm just going to stay out here for… awhile longer." Emily said. Her granddad nodded, and gave her a wink before turning around and hobbling towards the estate.

Emily sat down and wrapped her arms around her knees, placing her chin between them. She knew her granddad was right. She was just being a normal, angsty teenager. But something in the back of her mind, a very small voice of truth and reason, said it was something much more than that.

Emily decided maybe it was time to return, though she would not be giving apologies to anyone. The DeAngelo's deserved what they got.

Although, the moment Emily turned around, she saw there was someone standing on the other edge of the yard. She couldn't see who it was, for it had gotten much darker. Her first thought was to ignore them. She didn't want to talk to anyone just now. Emily held her head high and began walking back towards the house, prepared to pass the person without so much as looking them in the eye. She didn't care if it was gran. However, as she got closer, she realized the person was wearing an odd-looking cloak. They had pulled up the hood so Emily could not see their face. It was an odd thing to wear, especially in mid-august. She paused for a half a second, slightly confused. The person hadn't moved a single step. The wind rushed through them almost like they were a ghost. Emily shook her head, and continued to walk.

"Stop," they said. Their voice was deep and ominous. Emily's eyes widened and she froze. What on earth-

"Excuse me?" Emily said, taken aback by their abruptness.

The person slowly turned their hidden face towards her, and Emily swallowed hard. This wasn't a party guest, she realized.

"Emily Renee Angeline Smith?" they asked calmly. Emily froze with fear, and she could feel her eyes widening. They flickered towards the house. It wasn't far. She could run.

"Who are you?" she snapped, "How do you know my name?"

The person chuckled deeply.

"Oh, everyone once knew your name. But now, you go by a different one. One you thought you could hide behind…"

Emily began taking minuscular steps away from this madman. Once she was within a few feet of the estate, she could scream for help. But no one would hear her from here.

"Right, ok... I'm going to leave now… I-I mean people are waiting for me…" she stammered.

"I've been searching for you for a long time, Ms. Smith." The man continued, ignoring her warning, "I've got something that I would like to show you."

Emily said nothing, but her eyes never trailed from the crazy man in front of her. Silence fell over them for a moment or two.

Then, Emily ran for it. She ran like her life depended on it. Suddenly, she felt a strong, rough hand grab her shoulder and pull her back. She screamed, and whirled around, kicking the man directly in the shins. He groaned, and Emily attempted to pull away, but he held fast, and jerked her away from the house. Her screaming became more and more frantic, but the man easily overpowered her. No kicking, punching, or struggling could wriggle her free from him. He was mad!

"What do you want from me?" she bellowed. The man said nothing, but he wrapped an arm around her. He then proceeded to spin on his heels, and Emily only saw darkness after that.


	2. Chapter 2

The air was cold. This was the first thing Emily realized after being whisked away from her home. The air was cold, and bitter, and Emily only found that this worsened her mood.

Getting kidnapped was already bad enough as it was, but now it was bloody freezing.

Emily and her capturer had landed on a short stretch of road lined with small, suburban houses. Iron rod fences, extinguished street lamps, and howling dogs in the distance added to the hostility of the new surroundings, giving Emily shuddering goose bumps. She could see that the neighborhood was not very large; the cobblestone street met its end where rolling hills began, and as Emily looked out along the horizon, she could see no other civilization for miles. Stars prickled in the night sky, untouched by any artificial light, seeing as there was none. There wasn't even a brush of wind to whisk away the stale air that smelled like mulch and old meat.

Emily liked to think of herself as a lively girl: feisty, and quite springy. So, it was only natural that the instant her feet hit the ground, Emily tried to make a break for it.

"Ah, ah, ah." The man in the cloak tsked, snatching Emily by the back of her shirt before she could get further than a few feet, her shirt collar momentarily strangling her. Whoever this man was, he was exceedingly strong. He pulled her back like she weighed no more than a wispy piece of cloth. "Don't even bother."

"Like hell I won't," Emily snarled, squirming violently in his grasp. The man found her efforts amusing, as indicated by the cold laughter that emitted from the darkness of his hood.

"How like your mother you are." He murmured, teasingly playing with a curl of her hair. Emily whipped it around, hoping to free herself from his repulsive touch, before she could comprehend the words he had said.

"Stuff it, old man. Don't you _dare_ mention my mother like that!" She snapped, trying a new tactic, and stomping on the ground around his feet. She missed several times, making the man laugh even louder. Her face was flushed with embarrassment, and anger.

"Or what?" he contradicted.

"Let me go!" Emily yelled, not even bothering to respond, "Let me go you filthy bastard!"

The man stopped laughing, but his playful tone, like he was talking to a small child, still lingered in his voice.

"'Please' and 'thank you' are always nice additions to a request."

Emily gave him a look of pure lividness.

"Please let me go, you filthy bastard!" she tried again, cocking her head sassily. The man sighed.

"For a young lady, manners are an important trait to uphold."

"What the hell do you care about manners? You kidnapped me!" she spat, lunging forward for something to cling to. The man restrained her easily, contemplating her words thoughtfully.

"I didn't have a choice. You wouldn't have come along otherwise," he explained. Emily cackled once for good measure, turning to look back at him heinously.

"I don't want to hear your excuses. Let. Me. Go!"

"I brought you all the way out here for a purpose, Ms. Smith. I intend to fulfill that purpose before I make any decisions on your release." Emily's capturer said boldly. Emily gritted her teeth.

"If you think I'm going to indulge you, and ask you why you brought me here, think again-"

"I want to talk."

Emily stopped struggling for a moment, considering his request, but only writhed even harder once the moment passed.

"Like hell you do!"

"Honestly, I only wish to speak to you. Explain some things. Once I do, I'd imagine this would all clear up very quickly."

Emily was pretending to ignore the man, when she was really listening to everything he said. The whole thing was curious. Why did he drag her out here, away from her home? Was he completely deranged? Emily figured that if his goal was to kill her, he would have by now. But, of course, Emily could only assume that kidnappers never really told the truth, and therefore deemed his words worthy of discard.

"I don't want… to hear ANYTHING you have to say!" she yelled. "Now take me back, you pigheaded-!"

Suddenly, the man snatched her shoulders with a crushing force, making Emily cry out in agony, and whipped her around to face him. Even up close, the hood engulfed the man's face with shadows, making it near impossible to make out anything about his appearance. However, Emily didn't need to see his face to know that his expression was sharp, and angry. Her eyes widened fearfully, and she stared into the black abyss of a man, her breathing ragged.

"To be frank, Ms. Smith, I don't care about what you want. You are going to listen to what I have to say, whether you want to or not."

Emily swallowed hard, trying desperately to cling to her courage. She had stopped squirming, and stood still in the man's grasp, though, that may have had something to do with her now injured shoulder blades.

"That's better. Now," The man continued, gesturing to one of the suburban houses to their left. "Shall we?"

Emily's eyes flickered to the house, knowing that, once inside, it would become much harder to escape. Her head was screaming, and her instincts roared for her not to go anywhere near this man, and Emily was known for trusting her instincts.

But, with little choice, Emily was pushed in front of the man, and something hard was pressed against her back aggressively. A gun perhaps? Emily's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, because it felt much too small and stick-like to be a gun. She tried to peer over her shoulder, and catch a glimpse of the weapon, when the man violently shifted its position to just below her ribcage. The pressure hurt.

"Ladies first."

"Oh, found our manners, have we?" Emily grumbled as she slowly approached the door of the house.

From the outside, it was quaint and petite, and appeared to be the perfect house for a small family. Though, from the looks of the atrociously neglected yard work, Emily deducted that no one had lived in this home for some time. Not to mention that the paint on the home was beginning to chip and some of the windows looked cracked.

Emily stepped through a barrier of dust on her way in, coughing and sputtering violently, and waving her hand in front of her face to disperse the dust. When her eyes opened, and she looked around, she saw that the entire place was coated in thick layers of the stuff. Cobwebs and dust bunnies lurked around every corner and piece of furniture. The wallpaper was peeling unattractively, and everything was hued in a depressing grey. Emily tried to see past the wary, ancient, somewhat disgusting façade, and saw that this house was, at one point, quite nice. It was homey, with coordinating color swatches, and a motherly interior design. Emily could see a child running around the living room, with a father chasing after it, both laughing. Or a mother descending the stairs holding a large basket of laundry, which the father immediately removed from her tired, gracious hands, and giving her a loving kiss.

Emily blinked, and the images faded, leaving her alone in the damp, depressing house, with the man who had stolen her from her own.

"Sit, please." He said, waving his hand to a chair that smelled of mildew. Emily, not wanting to be shot in the back, begrudgingly sat, shifting around uncomfortably. The man removed the weapon from her back, and tucked it away before she could get an indication as to what it was.

"Are you sitting comfortably?" the man asked.

Emily scoffed loudly.

"I will take that as a yes. Now, Ms. Smith let's start simple… are you familiar with witchcraft?"

Emily's eyebrows shot up, and she risked a small, bitter laugh.

"No," she said.

"But you understand the fundamentals…"

Emily pressed her tongue to the inside of her cheek in frustration.

"Yes, I suppose I'm not so dimwitted that I don't know what witchcraft is."

"And how, might I ask, would you react to the idea that witchcraft is real?"

Emily gave the man an appraising look, raising one eyebrow condescendingly. She crossed her arms.

"I would insist that you're completely off your rocker."

"What if it could be proven?"

The words fell from his tongue in an excited tone, clearly eager to impress. Emily's face flickered with confusion, looking around suspiciously, before looking back at the man.

"It can't be."

"But what if it could?"

"Mister, I hate to break it to you, but there is no such thing as witchcraft!" she insisted.

The man leaned back in his chair for a moment, before he reached back into his robes. Emily immediately shot out of her seat, thinking he was going back for his gun. He stopped, obviously sensing her alarm.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he assured.

"I don't believe you!"

"Please sit."

Emily tentatively returned to her chair, never tearing her eyes away from the man. She observed his cautious movements as he slowly plunged his hands beneath the cloak, and withdrew something that resembled a twig. Emily hardly moved, unsure of what to think.

Then, he flicked the stick in the direction of one of the chairs to their right, and it burst into flames. Emily screamed bloody murder, watching as the flames licked the fabric, tearing away at the already weak wood. The heat burned the skin on her face viciously, threatening to engulf her in waves of fire.

Then, it was gone, and the chair sat in the middle of the floor, completely unharmed. It looked as if it hadn't even been touched; even the layer of dust still coated the fabric, just as before. Emily's chest was heaving in panic as her widened eyes moved from the chair, to the stick in the man's hand.

"That's… you've got a…"

She pointed a shaking finger at the wand, hardly even breathing at this point. The man shoved it away again.

"Magic," he said proudly, "the common practice of a witch, or wizard."

"W-witch… or wizard…" Emily repeated softly, struggling to comprehend everything. She bit at her nails nervously as her brain worked feverishly to piece the entire thing together, but it was all coming together in a massive, blurry compound. She couldn't understand. "That's… that's not…"

"Possible? Well, obviously it is, seeing as I've just proved it."

"A trick…"

The man laughed heartily.

"A trick? My dear, you think I would bother with something that elaborate if I was a muggle? Please…"

At the word "muggle," Emily's head shot up, a cry lodged in her throat, emerging as a weak croak. He had said muggle… It couldn't be…

"Seeing as now I've got your attention, I might as well tell you," he pressed on, oblivious to Emily's sudden bout of shocked confusion, "Ms. Smith, I have brought you here tonight for a number of reasons, the most important one being the truth.

"You are a witch."

Emily saw the corners of her vision going black, and her stomach was churning dangerously. She desperately wanted to vomit, but instead, she continued to stammer inconsolably.

"A witch…"

"You possess the gift of magic, which runs in your blood as clearly as your ancestors before you."

Emily was shaking her head. The man sighed.

"You can do things, can't you? Things other children can't. When you get angry, or scared, you make things happen… unexplainable things."

Emily's haze of confusion began to part, revealing a small trace of light that she clung to for understanding. She did do those things… Emily had always done unexplainable things; for instance, dropping a chandelier on the heads of those who irritated her.

"Yeah… I can… but-"

"It's because you're a witch."

Emily leaned back in her chair, pressing her palms firmly to the side of her head, trying to get a firm grip on reality. Though, no matter how much pressure she applied to her temples, she couldn't seem to ground herself. Everything was spinning.

"But this stuff… it isn't supposed to be real…"

"But it is."

Instead of spending another moment trying to piece together what was going on, Emily stared at the man before her and stated simply, "Explain," deciding to let him ease her confusion.

He began with a deep breath.

"The day of your birth was a joyous one. Your parents were benign and peaceful people, and couldn't have been happier. A witch, and a wizard, joined in matrimony, now had a beautiful baby girl. However, things weren't as perfect as they may have seemed. Your mother, a woman by the name of Renee Angeline, just so happened to be the last remaining descendant of the most powerful wizarding family to ever exist: the Hyslains.

"Now the Hyslain family had once been ruthless and power hungry. As one of the first pureblood wizarding families to ever arise in the history of magic, they developed quite a name for themselves among other witches and wizards. Their tactics for maintaining their pureblood line was… crude, to say the least. They dominated any who opposed them.

"As time went on, the family's power slowly diminished. Half-bloods, and muggle-borns became much more accepted into magical society, and interbreeding with muggles grew more and more common. Though, no one forgot the cruel, horrendous ruling nature of the Hyslain family, which was almost extinct at this point. Your mother was the last remnant of the Hyslain line, which she was eager to forget. She hardly ever spoke of her family, knowing that she would be in danger if she did, and went into hiding. She married, and had you.

"But people never forgot the Hyslains. Many still held distinct grudges against the family. Hardly a year after your birth, the old rivals discovered your mother's whereabouts, and stormed the streets of this very town, hungry for blood, and vengeance. Your mother, willing to fight for her family, did the best she could to protect you, but it was no use. They were determined to kill every last Hyslain; that meant you, as well as your mother.

"So, in a desperate attempt to save you, your mother used the entirety of her magic to teleport you somewhere safe. Somewhere the mobs could never find you. It drained her of whatever magic she had left, rendering her dead before she was even killed. She had sent you to another universe… Somewhere that magic didn't exist.

"You were raised there, thinking yourself a normal, muggle child. But you are anything but normal. In your veins runs some of the most magical blood that has ever existed."

Emily was drinking the information as hungrily as a starving child: crazed, and eager for more. Revelation was clear and beautiful. The shock was still there, but Emily was beginning to believe the man's words, which rang truthful.

"I'm… I'm a witch." She said, nodding. "My mother… s-she saved me?"

The two sat in silence as Emily let her euphoria reign over her emotions. This was too good to be true. She wouldn't be surprised if it was a dream, but at the same time, she really hoped that it wasn't. She had had a family. A magical family, who had loved her, and sacrificed their lives for her.

"So you're saying that this was my home? My childhood home?" Emily asked, craning her neck to get a better look at the musty place.

"Yes," said the man. She let a wide smile break out over her face.

She slowly came down from her high, letting everything slowly settle in like the layer of dust in the house.

"But wait… I still don't understand something…" Emily questioned fervently. "How did you… How did you find me?"

The man leaned forward in his chair.

"In the world of magic, there are, how do you say… portals between all the various universes. They are subtle, and scattered like dust particles in the wind. They blend in so perfectly, that you could come across it every day, and never know."

"What do you mean by portals? Like what?"

"Like… a story book for example."

Emily felt her shoulders tense up violently.

"Is that it then?" She asked. "You found me through a book?"

"It took me a long time to find it. Like I said, these portals are subtle, and it takes a great deal of magical skill to coax them open."

Emily pinched her eyes shut, holding up a hand.

"Wait… so, you're saying that certain story books are true? And they're connections between worlds."

"That is correct."

Emily let out a single, breathy laugh. The man cocked his head beneath his cloak curiously, but asked no questions.

_So then,_ she thought to herself, _the wizarding world from my books… it's all REAL!_

"I imagine this must be quite a lot to take in," he said. Emily nodded, her head swelling like a balloon about to burst. So much information… so many questions.

Then, one particularly grueling question surfaced amongst her jumbled thoughts, making itself known. Emily gazed up at the man curiously, and through squinted eyes.

"But… why?" she asked.

"Why what?"

"Why did you do it?"

"You mean, why did I bring you back?"

Emily looked at him eagerly, but the man was reluctant to respond right away. In fact, they sat in silence for much longer than Emily felt comfortable with. Her hands grew sweaty, scared that she had offended the man in some way, but she did not rip her eyes from the endless, black hole beneath his cloak. Her body grew cold.

Finally, the man stood, and waved his hand to indicate that she should do the same. Emily was quick to oblige.

"Follow me. I'll explain as we walk."

The two magical beings ascended the staircase, with was just as dusty and dim as the rest of the house. Emily admired the way the man's cloak fluttered gracefully over each stair, almost like it were leaking darkness.

When they reached the top, the man turned his body towards a door, and gestured for her to open it. Emily pointed to herself, startled, but reached for the handle anyways. When she opened it, she gasped.

Unlike the rest of the house, which was dusty and old looking, this new room looked like it was burnt to a crisp. Everything was shriveled and black, and bits of ash were scattered around like sand. Though, through the charred appearance, it was obvious to Emily that this had once been a nursery.

Her nursery.

The small crib resided in the far corner, and the dresser had various animals hand painted onto the wood. Perhaps her father did that for her. There was a weak, pathetic looking rocking chair by the door, clearly no longer safe to sit on, as its legs were thin and frail. Each step that Emily took into the room made a sickening crunch.

"This was my room…" she said aloud. "It… was burnt?"

"Cursed fire, I'm afraid. It will never fade. This is where the mob cornered your family before they could escape. This is the place your mother sent you off from."

"This is where they died." She whispered, feeling a kind of unknown sadness pierce her heart. It was too dull to break it, but sharp to cause an ache all over her body. She had never known how her parents died, not even in the muggle world. Her grandparents had said that her parents had presented her to them, and left without another word. Gone.

Now that she knew, Emily experienced a feeling she had never acknowledged before. One she could not explain.

"Yes," said the man, "This is where they died."

Emily hadn't realized she was crying. Silent tears ran down her face, leaving wet trails behind. When she finally realized they were there, she quickly wiped them away, ashamed.

"You haven't answered my question," she asked, suddenly defensive, struggling to control her feelings. "Why did you bring me back?"

The man placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, but Emily winced. She was still in pain from when he had grabbed her. At this motion, the man retreated, and simply said "Turn around."

Emily did so, straightening her posture, and holding her chin up, displaying strength. The man reached for his hood to slowly pull it away.

He was old, that much was obvious. He was also fairly dirty. His brown eyes were hollow and tired, which struck fear in Emily, though she couldn't say why. He had a wrinkled face, and short stubby hair, as well a beard that looked incredibly unkempt.

"My name is Marvolo Guant."

Emily stared at him for what felt like ages before the name began to ring a bell. Her eyes widened and her jaw fell.

"Y-you… that's impossible…"

Mr. Gaunt looked at her, confused.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think we've met before." He insisted.

_He has no idea,_ Emily realized._ He doesn't know you know who he is_

Emily jammed her mouth shut and nodded shakily, trying to act normal as he continued to speak_. _Mr. Gaunt was clearly suspicious of her sudden anxiety, but pressed on.

"Ms. Smith, I have brought you back to the wizarding world because I am in need of your assistance." He explained. "You see, I am one of Salazar Slytherin's last remaining descendants; another incredibly powerful wizard family line. But years ago, I was released from the wizard prison, only to find my children had all abandoned me. I no longer uphold the prestige that I once had when people mentioned my name. I no longer hold the true power of the Slytherin line. I am… broken."

Emily's heart was going to jump out of her throat any second now. She had to get out of here, and fast. This man was crazy. How… how was this all possible?

"But you…" Mr. Guant continued, "When I heard that the heir of the Hyslains may have escaped the dreadful mob, I knew I had to find you. Because you can redeem me! You can save my title! I spent years tracking you down, because I knew your mother wouldn't have hidden you somewhere easy to find. But I was desperate… I _am_ desperate, and you are my only hope, Ms. Smith."

Emily had been slowly backing towards the door as Marvolo spoke.

"That's a truly… moving story, Mr. Gaunt, sir. But how could I possibly help you?"

"We will renounce that the true heir of the Hyslain family has returned, and with her, the powerful blood relative of Salazar Slytherin. We could create destruction, and havoc, together. We will rebuild a new name for our dead family's, striking fear in the hearts of the entire wizarding community! We will regain everything we have lost!"

"You're… you're crazy!" Emily shouted at Mr. Guant, appalled, "Are you out of your mind? You honestly think I would help you do something like that?"

Mr. Gaunts crazed, and hungry expression turned sour at Emily's tone. He glared at her evilly.

"I'm offering you the choice of a lifetime-"

"No, you're asking me to save some old washed up man from losing his power, by joining him in taking over the wizarding world? Are you mad?"

Mr. Gaunt now looked livid, standing to his full height.

"I won't take no for an answer." He snarled deeply. Emily swallowed, fear ripping her insides apart, but somehow managed to hold her ground.

"Too bad."

A steady, anxious silence follows…

Then, Mr. Guant threw the first spell. Emily must have been expecting it; otherwise she may not have dodged it so quickly. She ran for the door, when another bout of flames suddenly shoots out from behind her, licking away at the already charred wood, preventing her escape. Emily froze.

"You stupid girl. You really think you can resist my power? You, with no magical training, or even a wand to defend yourself with?" he cackled, swirling his wand around, and flinging a string of chains in Emily's direction. She jumped just in time to miss them, but the metal still grazed her ankle painfully. She cried out in anguish, and something hot and wet started trickling down her leg.

"We don't have to do this the hard way," Mr. Gaunt said. Emily cut her eyes menacingly at the man, feeling a rage broil in her gut, shoving fear out of the way like it was an annoying pest. Strength from the anger fueled Emily.

"I will never help you, you crazy old bat!" She yelled at the top of her lungs.

The last thing she saw was a streak of red barreling towards her, before the heat exploded inside of her.

Emily went blind for a moment, the white light scorching her pupil to the point of pain. Something was pulsating. Something hot and powerful. It surged though her feet and out her skull as she felt it expand throughout the room, burning everything in sight. It was coming from inside her, and being pushed outwards, like hot elastic.

Then, as soon as it had started, it was over. Emily gasped for air, her arms splayed out beside her like she was on the freaking titanic. Each exhale was more like a cry than a breath as she looked around, able to see again. Fresh fire burned away at the already burnt room. It snapped and singed at the old ashes, creating new piles. She let out a startled whimper as her eyes found the pale, dead corpse of Mr. Gaunt, lying with a shocked expression in the middle of the floor. His hollow eyes were wide, and his limbs splayed at an uncomfortable angle. He must have hit his head on the ground, because his skull was bleeding profoundly.

Emily took gentle steps towards the dead man, thinking that maybe he would sit up and lunge at her, but nothing of the sort happened. He lay as lifeless as a piece of driftwood.

Carefully, Emily removed his wand from his cloak, holding it between two fingers. She examined it with great interest, feeling the power it held. It was a piece of twig, but it gave Emily a marvelous bit of comfort. A wand… a real wand!

Emily started to back away from Mr. Gaunt, her eyes never trailing from his limp body. Even though the silence was just as dead and eerie as before, Emily pressed two hands to her ears, trying to block out her screaming thoughts and pumping blood.

She hit the doorframe on her way out, the searing pain suddenly clearing her mind. The ringing faded and Emily ran. She ran as best she could from the corpse, the room, and the house itself. She ran from the pain, the fear, and the fire. Each pounding step to the ground brought back a little more courage. Each ragged breath cleared her mind a little more. She had killed a man.

She had killed a wizard.

And now she was running, but had nowhere to go.


	3. Chapter 3

The air smelt of soot and fried flesh. Emily coughed as her eyes watered, but she refused to stop running. The pain that shot through her leg from the wound was agonizing, but she grinded her teeth together in an attempt to force it out. The road beneath her feet led her away from the house; away from everything. She didn't look back.

Eventually, she sprinted past the town limits, and on to a road that resided in the middle of nowhere. Tall grass stretched across the miles of hills as far as she could see, and it was only when she could hardly make out the town at all when she finally allowed herself to stop. Emily fell to her knees, and gripped her arms in agony. Her tears had stopped, and she proceeded to vomit into the grass violently, the wand in her hand clutched in a death grip. Sometime later, she flung her arms out in defeat, and sprawled over the edge of the field, half of her body on the road. She didn't want to move. She didn't want to think. Everything was painful. Her cut throbbed torturously, and her head was whirling at a million miles a minute. The air was cleaner out here, and the grass rustled peacefully, tickling at her skin.

Gently, Emily leaned forward, and observed the cut that Gaunt had created in her flesh, almost hacking up again at the sight of it: deep and bloody. She wasn't quite ready to acknowledge that she was holding a magical weapon in her hand just yet… or that she had killed a man. One thing at a time. Her whole body ached, and Emily knew she had to get somewhere safe so she could patch herself up before moving on. She didn't know where she was going to go, or what she was going to do, but she figured there must be someone somewhere who could help her.

Abruptly, there was the screech of tires. Emily screamed, and attempted to fling herself away from the fast approaching machine, before it violently came to a halt a few inches next to her body. Her eyes were scrunched up and her muscles tense as she waited to be hit, but when she realized it wasn't going to, she opened her eyes. What she saw made her gasp, and sit straight up.

The knight bus, shining and blue, stood before her grandly. It glittered in the light of the moon, an impossible, but beautiful beacon of hope. She took in as much as she could before she forced herself to shut her eyes, and open them again. It was still there. Was this a dream? It had to be.

"Welcome to the knight bus," said a voice suddenly. Emily spun around in a panic to find a young man with a nicely pressed bellboy suit standing before her proudly. He smiled down at her as she stumbled backwards clumsily, her feet shaking with the rest of her body.

"Did you say…T-the knight bus?" she repeated. The young man nodded.

"I did indeed ma'am. I believe you called us, yes? Stuck your wand hand in the middle o' the road?"

Emily opened her mouth, then closed it, then opened it again, at a complete loss for words. She looked at the twig in her hand as if seeing it for the first time, tilting her head to the side, at a loss for words.

"I… suppose I… I must've…"

"If you wouldn't mind hoping aboard, ma'am? We've got a very tight schedule to keep." The boy said politely. Somewhere amongst the jumbled thoughts and emotions ricocheting through Emily at lightning speed, she was able to comprehend that this was not Stan Shunpike. From what she could recall, Stan was grimy, rude, and not nearly as put together as this young man was. Emily gulped and managed a smile before allowing herself to be guided on board.

"Thank you ma'am. Ernie!" he called, "Let's get a move on!"

The doors shut. Emily stumbled onto one of the beds, clutching her arm and trying to mask the pain as best she could, and still shaking. The boy took no notice of her unfortunate condition, which was either very rude or very considerate; she wasn't sure yet. Emily considered that they must get all sorts on this bus, and they'd probably seen much worse than her.

"Ern! Come on!" the boy said, knocking at the glass window. A young Ernie turned and gave the boy a very inappropriate finger gesture before hitting the gas with a very startling force. Emily was thrown over the side of her bed, and cried out in pain as her wound smashed into the bed board. She clutched the sheets anxiously as she looked out the window, trying to breathe through the agony. They were flying down the road, passing hill after hill, and in almost no time at all, they were in the midst of a city Emily had never seen before. Cars and people flew past the vehicle at speeds unknown to man, making them nothing more than streaks of color. However, the bed continued to bump around the cabin, making it difficult for Emily to focus.

"Where to, love?" The boy said. Emily took a moment to answer, trying to think of somewhere she knew.

"Um… the leaky caldron I suppose…" she replied absentmindedly, a small thrill shooting through her at the idea that it might just be a real place. According to Emily, none of this was really happening yet. It was a dream of sorts… an impossible dream. Still, the idea that the leaky caldron might actually exist, and she might actually be going there…

The boy knocked at the window again, knocking Emily out of her momentary trance.

"Leaky Caldron, Ern!" he shouted.

"Yeah, I know, I can hear her!" Ernie shouted back. Emily looked around as all the beds rocked around the bus, bouncing off the walls. How did the people sleep in such chaos?

Suddenly, she looked up and noticed that they were on the wrong side of the road, and cars were flying past the bus at dangerous speeds, threating to crash.

"Oh my god, we're going to hit someone!" Emily shouted, trying to get up and run to Ernie to tell his driving was going to get them all killed, only to be flung over her bed again. This time, she did a full somersault across the mattress, and landed on the floor on the other side with a thud.

"Ow!" she cried.

"Relax princess," Ernie called from the front of the bus, "have some faith!"

"We know what we're doing," the boy consoled, "no one's going to crash, I promise."

Emily nodded, but didn't believe a word he said. She watched as car after car barely grazed the side of the bus, teasing her sanity.

Suddenly, the bus came to a screeching halt again; only this time, Emily was a bit more prepared. She triumphantly snatched the bed frame before falling over again; before the bus lurched backwards from the brakes. Emily released her grip unknowingly, and went flying- face first- into the floor. She groaned as she lifted her aching head from the ground.

"Leaky caldron," Ernie declared gruffly. Emily gave him a sarcastic grin of thanks, and a grateful nod towards the helpful boy, before she lifted her head up in whatever dignity she had left and tentatively stepped off the bus. Before she did however, a she caught a few of Ernie's words:

"She's quite a looker, ain't she? Bet you'd like to see more of her."

"Shut it, Ernie!"

But before she could turn around and make sure what she heard was correct, the bus had vanished in a screeching puff of smoke. Emily stood on the side of the road in London, her feet wielded to the ground. It was sketchy, dark, and she was unsure of what to do next. She turned around tentatively to look at where the bus had dropped her off; the leaky caldron, as promised. Seeming to have no other choice, Emily gritted her teeth and stepped inside.

The place smelled musty, like the mountain lodges her grandpa sometimes took her to when they went camping. Though, the leaky caldron was not nearly as nice. It was rusty and plain, with some suspicious characters lurking in and out of the shadowy corners. Now that she was inside, Emily was even more hesitant about how to proceed from this point. She was here… now what?

Emily just now realized how unfortunate the odds were for her in this situation. Not only was she confused and vunerable in these new surroundings, but she had no money. The only thing she did have was Mr. Gaunt's wand, and that wasn't much comfort seeing as she had just killed the man. Just because she had read about all this in a fictional book, didn't mean she really knew about any of the technicalities. There was no guide for "What- to- do- if- your- favorite -book -series –suddenly- becomes –real- life".

As Emily was about to find someone to approach, she felt a large hand placed on her shoulder.

"Emily Angeline Smith! Thank the stars you're safe!" the person exclaimed. Emily turned on her heels, backing away from whoever had touched her. Emily thought he looked rather odd: an older man, smartly dressed in a bowler cap and long purple cape. He carried a serious looking briefcase, which indicated to her that he was someone of importance. But who? And how did he know who she was?

"Pardon me, but might I ask who you are?" She said coldly, trying not to show fear.

"Oh, of course! How very rude of me!" the man said, taking off his hat to reveal a very thin veil of hair barely covering his head, "my name is Jenkins Donavin, Minister of magic."

Emily refused to let her guard down, but her eyes widened in surprise. This could be a trick, she thought. This whole situation rendered her highly vulnerable, and this man could be trying to take advantage of her. Not to mention that she couldn't recall a "Jenkins Donavin" when she had read the books.

"I understand you must have been through quite an ordeal tonight Ms. Angeline. Please have a seat," the supposed minister said kindly, pulling out a chair with his wand. Emily jumped a little at this use of magic. She didn't know why, (she had, after all, just been dropped off by a magical wizard bus), but this was a more direct use. It was more real to her.

This was a real wizard using real magic in front of her.

She sat in the chair reluctantly, clasping a shaking hand over her leg wound to try and conceal it, but the movement caught the minister's eye.

"Oh my stars! You're injured! You need medical attention immediately!" he declared, Emily shook her head.

"I'm fine sir, really. It's just a little cut…"

But two assistants dressed in black had already appeared and were whipping out their wands. Emily tried to shrivel away from them, but they wrenched her hands from the scrape and pointed their wands at her injury. She could instantly feel the pain leaching from her skin, replaced by a cool relief. When Emily looked down the cut had vanished, and in its place was new, baby pink skin.

"Better?" the minister asked. Emily nodded in wonder, but turned back to him, her expression wistful.

"I killed a man," she said softly. The words escaped her lips before she knew it, and the truth hit her just as quick. She had killed someone. She hadn't meant to, but she did.

The minister sighed and gave her a half smile. "It was self-defense. Any of us would have done the same. Mr. Gaunt has never been known for his, eh, gentleness."

"I didn't mean to kill him! He attacked me, and I just sort of… I mean I had never used magic before and… it just sort of exploded out of me…"

The minister placed a comforting hand over hers, silencing her.

"Like I said, you have been through quite a bit this evening Emily. Relax. You're not in any trouble."

Emily didn't care about being in trouble. She was always in trouble, but she had never _killed_ anyone before. It was a monumental prospect; Emily Renee Angeline Smith was now a murderer. It didn't matter if it was an accident, because it had still happened.

"Now, it is my understanding that Mr. Guant did a thorough job explaining the truth: the truth that was hidden from you for fourteen years for your own protection, I might add. He discovered a hidden portal that connected our world with yours, and brought you back, correct?"

Emily nodded, seeing as she had heard all of this from Mr. Gaunt himself. The minister then leaned forward, clasping his hands seriously, and his eyes stern.

"Now Emily, I need you to listen to me. I know you must be tired, and confused, but it's very important. There are people out there. People who, if they knew you were still alive, would want to hurt you. The entire wizarding world thinks that your bloodline is extinct, and we would like to keep it that way."

"There are people out there who want me dead." Emily said knowingly.

"Yes." The minister concurred, "And in this time span of 14 years, the anger against your family has been all but extinguished. It is crucial that it doesn't resurface, or we might just have another uprising on our hands. I know that you have just been introduced to all this but-"

"No one can know who I really am. Got it." Emily said, understanding immediately what had to be done.

The minister paused a moment, wondering if she was trustworthy.

"Well, I mean I get it. I don't have a death wish Minister," Emily assured, still trying to control her shaking.

"Very well," the minister sighed, "Now, onto other matters. You recognize that you are indeed, a witch; and a powerful one at that. So naturally, you will have to be trained."

The man clicked his briefcase open with a snap, and slid a piece of folded parchment across the table towards her. Emily slowly picked it up and took a look at the scrawled writing inside. It was a list.

"The headmaster of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry would be delighted to take you on as a student. It is one of the finest magical institutions, and you will be educated in the magical arts with other various witches and wizards of your age. These are all the things you will need before September 1st. You can find it all in Diagon alley, which is the wizarding village behind the leaky caldron. I will send an Auror or two to escort you and show you where everything is."

Hogwarts… Hogwarts…

The prospect delighted her to the point where Emily felt euphoric. Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry… it was _real_ and she was going to study there!

"But sir," Emily interjected suddenly, somewhat embarrassed, "I… I haven't got any money to pay for all this…"

Suddenly, the minister released a loud rumble of laughter. He threw his head back in amusement, and Emily looked around, somewhat confused as to why her current situation was so funny.

"Oh my dear… You are a descendant of one of the most ancient wizarding families in the history of magic! Trust me. Money will not be an issue for you."

Emily opened her mouth again to ask another question, but the minister stopped her by placing a large metal key into her hand.

"Tomorrow, tell the Goblin's your name and give them this. They run the bank, and will supply you with what you need. Now, I wish I could be of more help, but I'm on an incredibly tight schedule, and already late as it is." The minister concluded, standing up. Emily followed his lead, trying her best not to fall forward from fatigue and shock.

"Very well. Thank you for your time minister," Emily said, bowing slightly.

"Oh the pleasure was all mine my dear." He said, stuffing papers back into his briefcase "Now, Tom the barman here will show you to your room."

Emily turned and a middle aged man stood with a crooked smile waved a hand towards the staircase. Before she allowed herself to follow him, Emily turned to see the minister grab what looked like a newspaper on his way out. Her heart skipped a beat excitedly, before she asked ""Oh, minister! Could I… maybe… have that?"

The man put his bowler hat back on top of his balding head before he looked down to where she was indicating. He held up the paper questioningly, and Emily nodded. He shrugged.

"By all means," he replied kindly, leaning forward with a grunt to hand it to her. Emily smiled in thanks, and watched him leave the tavern before following the old man up the creaky stairs.

Once in her shabby looking room that smelled like mothballs, Emily unfolded the paper with haste, her hands sweaty with anticipation. He eyes skimmed the words hungrily before they finally found what they were looking for right beneath the headline:

DATE: August 28th, 1940.


	4. Chapter 4

Emily awoke the next morning, her head aching from all the thinking she had done the previous night. Seldom sleep was achieved, because she had been too busy running numbers across her fingers in disbelief, trying to grasp at the idea that she had been sent back in time.

She was a witch in the 1940's.

The soft sheets draped over Emily's body lazily and her hands tightly gripped the pillows behind her head, her body tense with stress. Her hair felt knotted and bushy and still smelled of smoke from the night before.

Sun streamed through the windows, landing in patches on her face. It all must have been a dream. All of it. She was at home, in the world of muggles with her grandparents, and her grandmother would soon wake her up, and tell her she had to get ready for another snooty party.

She had convinced herself that this was true until she sat up, and saw that the room she was in was not her own. It was just as rickety and dusty as the rest of the leaky cauldron, and the floor shook as the muggle train loudly rumbled by. Emily began roaming her hands over anything she could touch within reach, reassuring herself that it was actually real.

A moment passed… and then she flung herself from the bed and sprinted to the bathroom. Emily turned to look at herself in the mirror; her wild hair falling over her shoulders, veins in her eyes popping with stress from last night, and deep purple circles underneath them. Her skin was blotchy and her lips swollen. Though, Emily wasn't highly concerned for her looks, it came as a reality check to her. This was her, standing in a world she thought to be fictional.

There was a knock at the door. Emily spun around, startled, and suspiciously approached the door. She grasped the doorknob and turned, poking her head out the doorway slightly.

"Ms. Angeline?" A tall, official looking man said. Emily nodded in acknowledgement. "We have been assigned by the minister to escort you this morning into Diagon alley."

Emily swallowed a thick lump in her throat, and gave a quick nod.

"I'll need a moment," she croaked, her voice dry and dehydrated. Then, she shut the door, pressing her back to it, and allowing herself a moment to breath. Diagon alley… she was going to diagon alley…

Another moment or two of shock passed, and Emily's breathing became louder and louder as the excitement slowly built. Then, her entire face lit up. She grinned broadly as she waltzed back into the bathroom to try and fix herself up.

This was real…

Emily Angeline Smith was going to Diagon alley!

* * *

The alley was incredibly busy. The cobblestone roads were packed with witches and wizards shuffling past one another, holding various magical items; whether they were animals, or potions, spell-books, or wands. The noise was overpowering, and for the first few moments, Emily felt a little sick with intimidation. The anticipation she felt made her stomach churn with nerves.

Then, all the windows of the magical stores came into view, and she completely forgot to be nervous. There were broomsticks and sugar-quills, magical cauldrons and beautifully designed witches hats, floating solar systems and delicious magical candies; Emily had died and gone to heaven.

As the minister had explained to Emily, money would not be a problem for her. The goblins had been all but too gracious once she told them who she was, which she found odd considering goblins were not the friendliest of folk. It had taken the lot of them almost an hour to reach her vault, which Emily could only imagine was located at the very bottom of the bank. When she got out of the cart, she could hardly breathe for the oxygen was so stale, and everything smelled moldy.

When the brass vault door swung open, Emily took one look, and almost passed out. She unknowingly backed up into one of the aurors, her jaw dragging along the floor. Jewels and other priceless artifacts were stacked up along the sides of the room, and random piles of gold were placed miscellaneously around the vault. Golden silverware and ancient priceless art pieces were mounted on shelves too high for her to reach. The entire scene glittered expensively, and Emily almost felt tears in the corners of her eyes. It was overwhelming. She had never had this much money in her entire life. Her grandparents had, of course, but they never trusted Emily with any of it.

However, Emily had always been responsible with whatever little money she did possess, so she was careful about how much she removed from her vault that day; a few bags ought to suffice for a year. When she was finished, she glanced longingly back at the mounds of treasure before the small, wobbly goblin closed the vault with an echoing bang.

Once Emily held the money in her hands, it felt like there was nothing she couldn't do. She wanted to buy everything in her line of sight, and secretly wondered if she had enough money to purchase the entire alley. Everything was attainable, and her hands itched to reach down into the bags, and just throw out money everywhere she could. But no… she had to control her impulses, and be wise about what she bought.

A few magical spell books and quills later, the aurors were obviously starting to get annoyed with Emily. Not that she blamed them; she was like a chipmunk on drugs, and continuously bounced from one store to the next, eagerly piling things up to buy. The men could hardly keep up with her. They had almost lost her a few times, which Emily may or may not have done on purpose. She didn't really enjoy their company anyway, for Emily had always loved to shop, and these men were just dragging her down.

Finally, once Emily had everything (including her wand, which she had been the most excited to get), the aurors forcefully hustled her back to her room at the leaky cauldron. Emily wanted to stay, and even tried to hide herself from the men so she could look around some more, but such ideas were foolish. These men captured dark wizards for a living, so did she really think that she could avoid them for long? They found her instantly, and were not amused in the slightest. After that, Emily knew that they would not be escorting her back to the alley again.

Once they had all returned, the aurors all bid Emily a bitter farewell, before leaving the establishment, clearly thrilled that the day was over.

But for Emily, it had only just begun.

She spread out her newly purchased things along the floor of her room, twirling in a circle excitedly. She held her wand in her hand, and let the warm feeling of the wood sooth her nerves. It seemed like a normal enough wand (sycamore and dragon heartstring), but something about it felt different… Emily knew that a wand was supposed to feel the best to the person it chose, but her wand felt more powerful than what she had imagined; almost like it was harnessing her magic from her. From what she recollected, the magical transaction between a witch and her wand wasn't a two way street. The wand wasn't supposed to take magic _back_!

Emily decided to ignore this strange feeling, and give her wand a try. She remembered all the spells from the "fictional" Harry Potter books that she had read; though, just knowing the spell alone might not be enough to actually make it work.

_Well_, she thought, _no harm in trying_.

"Accio!" she said, pointing her wand at a vase on the nearby table. Suddenly, it flung itself towards her with a vengeful force, and Emily cried out as she ducked. The vase went flying over her head, and hit the wall behind her with a crash. Startled, Emily looked down at her wand, then back at the shattered remains of the vase on the floor.

Then she started to laugh. Uncontrollable giggles bubbled out of her throat, and she clamped a hand down on her mouth to try and control them. Once she had managed to, she pointed her shaking wand hand at the vase.

"Reparo," she commanded. Almost too quickly, the vase repaired itself until it was like-new!

It was enthralling.

For the next few hours, that was all Emily did: break things and repair them. She also experimented with some other spells she knew, like levitation, and disarming. The thrill of this newfound magical power sparked something inside of her… something that felt like it had been missing for a long time. It filled that gap perfectly, making her feel complete. Emily flung herself onto her creaky bed with a delighted squeal, and she gazed at some of the trinkets that were now flying past her head. Her heart was filled with a warm happiness, and that was how she fell back asleep.

* * *

"WAKE UP!" Someone shouted loudly into Emily's ear.

Her eyelids popped back in frenzy, and Emily let rip a startled scream before she toppled out of her bed. She hit the ground with an uncomfortable sounding thud.

Groping around for her wand on the bedside table, Emily threw her head up over the side of the bed, and aimed.

"What…?!" she cried, her body spastically moving from side to side, thinking she was under attack, but the only thing she saw when she looked up was a young girl about her age.

She had short blond hair styled in a pixie cut, and small blue eyes. She was quite petite, as far as 14 year old girls go, and hardly looked like a threat. Her arms were crossed stubbornly as she watched Emily flail about.

"Finally, you're awake! I don't know what kind of sleeping spell you used last night, but whatever it was, it worked."

"S-spell…?" Emily stammered, still quite unsure as to what was going on.

"Yeah! You wouldn't wake up! You're the most hardcore sleeper I've ever met!" the girl said, her tone a mixture of annoyance and admiration. Emily rubbed a sore spot on her back where she had fallen.

"Oh, so you do this often? Shouting in people's ears to wake them up?" She retorted stubbornly, starting to get back on her feet. The girl rolled her eyes.

"Only when they're refusing to get their lazy arses out of bed," she admitted. Emily gave her a sarcastic grimace.

"What do you want? Why did you wake me up?" she asked, irritated. The blond girl shrugged.

"Tom the barman downstairs asked me to," she explained, "It could be because the Hogwarts express leaves in about an hour, and you've hardly got anything packed."

The irritation dissipated, and was replaced with utter panic as Emily looked at the time.

"Ohmigod! I've got to go!" She cried, and looked around at all of her magical things strewn about on the floor. She began gathering them all up into her arms in a messy fashion, and wildly looked around for some kind of suitcase.

"Here," the blond girl said, flinging a brown bag from the closet, and handing it to Emily. She looked up at her graciously.

"Thanks," she said, and opened it with a snap. She didn't even bother to fold anything, but just slammed it all into the bag, which was much roomier than she expected it to be… probably some kind of magical enchantment that she didn't know how to do.

Still whirling around and grabbing anything she could get her hands on, Emily found that there was a second pair of hands assisting her. She met the blond girl's eyes with confusion, to which the girl only smiled.

"Even though you're clearly not one of those neat freaks who folds everything, you'll probably still need some help if you want to catch the train on time," she said, smirking. Emily paused a moment before she smirked back.

"Emily," she said, sticking out a hand.

"Anne," the girl replied, taking it with a firm grasp and shaking. Then, they continued to fling things into the bag as fast as they could.

To Emily's great amusement, the two girls made quite a team; Emily shouted out what she was missing off the top of her head, Anne miraculously found whatever it was, and shoved it in the bag.

"Standard book of spells, grade 4!" Emily yelled, looking around wildly for it, when something hard smacked her on the back of her head. She turned to Anne with a scowl, who gave her a guilty shrug.

"Found it!"

Emily picked the hard cover book off the floor, and bitterly chucked it into the bag.

Somewhere amongst the chaos, Anne had managed to find some jeans and a t-shirt for Emily to wear, which Emily threw on as fast as she could so she could continue packing.

"You can't very well get on the express in your nighty, can you?" Anne pointed out.

"It's a long train ride!" Emily replied indignantly, "And my nighty is comfortable!"

Anne threw the clothes into Emily's face, not even bothering to respond. Finally, when there was nothing left to pack, Emily zipped up her things, and threw the bulky mass over her shoulder.

"I think we just broke the record for fastest packing!" Emily noted. Anne rolled her eyes.

"It would've gone a lot quicker if we could use magic. Come on, we've got a train to catch!"

"We?" Emily asked, stopping in her tracks. Anne turned to look at her, confused.

"Well yeah… I need to get to Hogwarts to somehow."

"Oh, right!" Emily agreed, completely forgetting that Anne was approximately her age, and therefore undoubtedly attending Hogwarts as well. Anne gave her an appraising look before throwing the door open and clambering out of the room. The creaky floorboards were obnoxiously loud as the two ran down the halls.

"Wait for me by the door," Anne said, "I've gotta get my stuff to."

She didn't even wait for Emily to nod in response before she took off down a separate hallway, turning the corner with a messy little hop. Emily just kind of stood there, holding her things, not really sure as to what just happened.

_I think you just made a friend, _a small voice in her head said.

A few more seconds of silence passed, and then Emily's lips turned up in a wide smile.


	5. Chapter 5

"WHAT IN GODS NAME DID YOU PACK?" Emily cried, utterly bewildered, as she dragged Anne's sack as well as her own over the train station floor, practically sweating from the effort. Anne, who was carrying the many other suitcases she had brought, hardly seemed phased by the ridiculous amount of weight, proving that she was in quite good shape.

"Would you hurry?" Anne cried, not even listening to Emily complain "we're going to miss the bloody train."

With a frustrated grunt, Emily heaved, and managed to drag the bags all the way to the pillar between platforms 9 and 10, and doubling over onto her knees once she got there, breathing hard.

"A-after… you…" she panted. Anne shrugged, and without so much as blinking, she walking straight through the wall. It seemed to swallow her whole, an Emily forgot about her sore muscles for a moment to just stare at the now solid looking wall in awe.

The shock still had yet to fully register, but Emily could still feel the excitement buzzing inside her blood, making her smile like a giddy child who had just been handed a giant lollipop. She was going to get onto platform 9 ¾ … it was a dream come true.

Many moments later, she snapped back into reality, and knew that she had to actually GET ON to the platform before the train left, or this whole ordeal would be for nothing. Taking a deep breath through her stomach, Emily hoisted the bags up, ignoring the pain searing through her arms, and took a step…

Darkness engulfed her for a brief moment, before the world turned bright once more. The sun glittered through the glass ceiling stunningly, bouncing off the black and red train that drew her attention immediately. It huffed smoke impatiently, sitting on the tracks like a beautiful promise of adventure.

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU DOING BACK THERE? SMELLING THE ROSES?" Anne screamed, and out of nowhere, the young blond yanked Emily forward towards the locomotive. "I swear to god, it's like you've never been on a train before."

Emily had, indeed, been on a train before, but never one that took her to a magical school for witches and wizards.

Anne's grip hurt, and when they were at the foot of the train's door, she threw Emily into one of the doorways forcefully, and followed suit. Not a moment too soon, once the door to the car shut behind them, the train slowly began to move.

"Sorry!" Emily said defensively, looking at Anne's disapproving expression, "I got distracted."

With a sigh, the two girls began moving down the hallway of the train car, Emily still heaving the luggage behind her clumsily, letting it smack into some of the doors, making her exhaustion obvious.

As they progressed, Emily was beginning to notice something that made her feel a bit self-conscious: people were staring at them. Not really gawking, per say, but the subtle glances in the two girls directions as they passed room after room were a bit obvious. Emily held her chin up, and pretended not to notice, but she couldn't help leaning over to her new friend and whispering;

"Why are people… looking at us, Anne?"

Anne seemed a bit hazy, and didn't really seem to hear Emily ask. "Hm?' was the only thing she said. Emily didn't mention anything after that, but definitely felt the stares of curiosity following them until they finally reached a door to one of the cubbies, and stopped.

"There are some people I want you to meet!" Anne said cheerfully, knocking on the glass compartment door.

A girl their age with light, thin brown hair, and small blue-grey eyes got up, and opened it for them. It glided back with an easy swish, and she smiled at the two of them.

"Kenzie, Anne brought company!"

"… If it's that bloody quidditch player again-" said a voice from inside the compartment.

Whoever they were, they didn't have time to finish their thought, because Anne had already invited herself in, and dragged Emily along.

"Excuse me? What's wrong with Naveed?" The blond fired. The girl who responded to Anne's question with an eye roll had thick, long black hair, and large brown eyes. Her nose was a bit long, and her cheekbones quite prominent. She put the book she was reading beside her seat.

"Nothing… except that he's a Slytherin buffoon who can't read anything without pictures," she retorted. Anne crossed her arms.

"Ooh, sorry mom, I didn't realize that you get to decide who I do and don't hang out with. But anyways," she interjected before this black haired girl could so much as form a sassy reply, "this is Emily. Emily, this is Mackenzie and Julie."

She indicated to the two girls.

"I found _this_ one at the leaky cauldron," she pressed on, jerking a thumb in Emily's direction. "Almost made me miss the express."

Mackenzie's pompous and sarcastic attitude that she had used towards Anne, morphed into a friendly one, and she met Emily's eyes kindly.

"Well, anyone who can give Anne a run for her money can hang with us," she said. Anne made a face of mockery, complete with crossed eyes, and protruding tongue, before sitting back on the cushions. Julie closed the door and stuck out a hand.

"Nice to meet you!" she said. Emily smiled back easily, and shook Julies hand. This girl had a very warm presence. It made Emily feel comfortable, and safe. "Sorry about their behavior, but unfortunately, they're like this all the time."

Emily let out a small snicker, but no one heard because at that moment, Anne muttered, "She started it…"

"… I don't think I've ever seen you at Hogwarts before…" Mackenzie questioned, ignoring Anne's remark, "are you transferring from somewhere?"

"Oh no, I-" she started to say, before her voice got caught in her throat, and the sound that came out sounded like a choking frog. The ministers warning rang in the back of her mind…

What if these girls found out who she was, and tried to kill her?

What if anyone else found out?

Would she get kicked out of the school?

Clearing her throat, and trying to bypass her sudden panic attack casually, Emily continued to speak, forming a lie on the spot, "I… uh, was… homeschooled by my grandparents! They… um…. They died this year so I had to come to Hogwarts to, eh… continue my education."

It was bullshit if Emily had ever heard it, but the girls seemed to have no trouble buying her story.

"Oh my gosh… I'm so sorry," Julie said sympathetically. It was then that, Emily realized that most people would be upset if their grandparents died, so maybe she should act a bit more reserved.

"Oh… yes it was tragic," she played, "but I'm alright. I've always wanted to go to Hogwarts!"

Now that was no lie.

"Yeah, it's amazing!" Mackenzie agreed, "don't worry, you're going to love it! It's the best center for magical education in all of Great Britain."

"And it's FILLED with young, attractive wizards," Anne added, before Mackenzie rolled her eyes again. Julie laughed.

"Priorities, Anne. Priorities."

As the train chugged on, and the sun rose into the sky and fell over the horizon, Emily learned more and more about these girls; who they were, where they came from, and so forth.

Julie was raised by her single mother because her dad had died when she was very young. They ran a muggle bakery together in London. Her mother wasn't a witch.

"When she found out what I was, dad had already gone," she said to Emily while Anne slept, and Mackenzie read, "he never told us if he was a wizard or not, so I don't know if I'm muggle born or not, but I don't really care. Blood status never meant much to me anyways. Mum was really supportive, even if the whole thing took her by surprise."

Once Anne finally woke up, and she and Mackenzie had finished their row about her snoring, she divulged to Emily that she was actually an orphan.

"Yeah, I actually work at the leaky cauldron," she admitted. "Not like, as a maid or anything… I just clean off tables, and help man the bars by keeping things stocked. I think Tom took pity on me because I hated that bloody orphanage so much. I'd much rather spend my time working, and earning up so I can leave that place once I turn seventeen."

"What happened to your parents?" Emily asked. Mackenzie and Julie's eyes snapped up at the question in a panicked manner, and they shook their heads aggressively, as if to say that was something she should never ask. Emily looked around, confused, before Anne shrugged.

"They died," she replied vaguely, obviously refusing to divulge more. Emily's cheeks burned when she realized how insensitive she must have been.

"I'm so sorry," she apologized. Anne smiled.

"Nothing to be sorry for."

Mackenzie still had both of her parents, who were both magical, and had trained her from a young age.

"They have very high expectations of me," she admitted proudly. "They want me to become the first female minister of magic, you know. But I would much rather go into the medical field. I think that medi-wizards have such an important role to play."

As she talked, Anne made funny faces behind her back. Emily grinned.

"That sounds great!"

"Yes, well… my parents aren't really so supportive of the idea. They encourage me to shoot towards politics, but I just think they're all so corrupt. I mean, the ministry is obviously hiding the facts from us about Grindlewald's rise to power, and how he's taken over most of Europe by now…"

She ventured off onto a tangent about the ministry; how the wizarding community was being lulled into a false sense of security, and so on. Julie rested her head on Emily's shoulder, falling asleep to the thrum of Mackenzie's voice. Emily liked the feeling… it made her feel like she was trusted.

Finally, after the sun set and the sky was black, the train slowed to a halt. The four girls had all changed into their robes sometime when the sun was still up. Emily shook Anne awake, (who had fallen asleep again, and was snoring horrendously), and the four girls grabbed their things, and headed off the train. The ground felt a bit unstable for a moment from the hours of traveling, but once she could stand, Emily inhaled the fresh night air graciously.

She didn't know what to expect, but her insides definitely felt lighter than they had that morning.

* * *

TOM RIDDLE

Tom rolled his eyes as the idle chatter of the girls around him became almost unbearable. It scratched at the back of his mind irritatingly when he was trying to think. It's very difficult to contemplate murder when you're distracted by the gossip of frilly females. Over the years, Tom had noticed that most of the girls in Slytherin house weren't the most intelligent people, and it drove him mad having to listen to the mindless, irksome words that dribbled from their mouths like sloppy porridge. Whispers, and wandering eyes floated around the table, and Tom tried to ignore it all as best he could.

Only one thing made the exasperating chit-chat tolerable, and that was that most of it was about Tom himself. It was no secret that Tom's devilishly handsome looks and skilled charisma attracted almost every girl who encountered him. They were like flies, and he was honey. It was pleasurable to experience the power that came with messing with an infatuated girl's heart, but in the end they were all the same. It was too easy, and the annoying after-affects were hardly worth it.

The boys who surrounded Tom were conversing loudly with one another, stuffing their faces with food. Tom was the only one who hardly said a word. He didn't like pointless discussion. It had no useful purpose and wasted energy. Instead, Tom propped his chin onto his hands, tuning out everything around him. He escaped into that world inside his mind that he found pleasurable and stimulating. Absentmindedly, Tom began to handle his spoon as the gears in his mind worked.

Suddenly, he noticed things had gotten quiet. Too quiet for his liking. The chatter had completely ceased leaving the hall totally silent. Tom opened his eyes and immediately tuned back into reality. All heads had turned to look at something; something coming in through the great oak doors. A late first year perhaps? Tom rolled his eyes as he craned his neck to see what all the fuss was about, and he could just make out the head of one of those three, annoying Ravenclaw girls. Everyone knew who they were, primarily because they were so accustomed to making trouble. Tom never usually paid them much thought though, because they had never interfered with his plans.

But as Tom looked further, and the cluster of Ravenclaw girls continued to walk down the long stretch, he noticed a fourth girl among them: someone Tom had never seen before. When they finally parted, and this new specimen became visible, Tom's jaw dropped a fraction of an inch.

Never had he seen such beauty. His heart began to race and his neck craned even further to get a better look. Her caramel colored hair shimmered as it rested on her back, her skin was as porcelain and delicate as ice, and her eyes… blue like sapphires, with a prominent golden ring revolving around the center. It was exquisitely unusual, and Tom knew he could get lost in them if he let himself.

Tom wasn't sure why, but at that moment, the girl turned to look at him. Their gazed met, and Tom was locked. His heart roared with excitement, and he immediately felt that rare sense of greed. This girl was stunning, and provoked those tactless, boyish thoughts that Tom hardly knew he had. He wanted to please this girl, but simultaneously make her scream. It was a hunger her had never felt before. A passion he wanted to recklessly follow.

He watched her, and noticed her body language was a rare combination of timid, yet powerful. She was unsure, yet clearly fiery when provoked.

The chatter resumed slowly. People turned away with a new tidbit of gossip to focus on: a beautiful new student. Tom ignored it all, because nothing mattered anymore. This girl was everything, and Tom didn't even know her name yet.

He would learn it. He would learn everything there was to learn about this girl, and more. Tom was very practiced in getting the pleasure he wanted from girls. They were drawn to his charm, and would do anything he wanted if he asked. He would do everything he could to extract that same pleasure from this one girl. Perhaps she would be enough to satisfy him for a long time. The thought made his blood rush and an evil smile played on his lips.

"Andrew," Tom crooned, turning to his right. A larger boy, quite barbaric in mannerisms, turned to Tom in response to his name, "See that girl over there?"

All of Tom's friends had stopped talking now that he was giving direction. They listened intently, interested in what their leader was saying. Andrew looked over, and nodded as he bit into a massive turkey leg, the juices dribbling down his chin.

"Do you think she's pretty?" Tom pressed. Andrew shrugged, but then gave a slight nod.

"Andrew, I'm going to ask you to do something for me… something important. Think you can accomplish it?"

The other boys laughed at Tom's childish tone, but Andrew was oblivious to Tom's mocking, and nodded.

"Good. Here's what you're going to do…"

* * *

"This was a terrible idea," Emily hissed under her breath as she sat between Anne and Julie. Mackenzie leaned forward as the noise in the great hall began to return to normal once more. For some reason, it had stopped when Emily walked in, and it made her greatly uncomfortable.

"When dinner is over, we'll take you to Headmaster Dippet. He's sure to know what to do now that you're here." She said logically. Emily swallowed hard, her hands somewhat clammy with nerves and excitement. Julie nudged her comfortingly before saying:

"It seems like our popularity just increased."

Anne leaned over to give Julie a confused look. "Why do you say that?"

Julie simply nodded her head in the direction of the massive crowd of students, silently raising her eyebrows in indication. The other three girls turned to look in that direction curiously, and only Emily jerked her head back to her food immediately afterwards, her cheeks flushing.

Even though the noise had increased, signifying that all had returned to normal, many pairs of eyes were still turning to look at her, like she were a zoo specimen.

"HEY!" Anne suddenly shouted, making everyone jump about a foot in their seats. Emily dropped her fork clumsily and it loudly clattered to the ground. The great hall grew silent once more as this little, yet powerful girl practically screamed across the hall. "Are you all so pathetic that you have nothing better to do than stare?"

She then sat back down, and, to Emily's relief, heads turned back to their food and friends, reluctant to look back at her.

"Thanks," Emily said, "but it's all right. I mean, they have a right to be curious."

"Oh, they're not just curious, honey," Anne said suggestively. Emily gave her a look of confusion, before shrugging and returning to her meal. Then, Julie nudged her again.

"There's still… a few more." She whispered.

This time, all four rotated in their seats to meet the eyes of a handful of eager boys. They resided at the Slytherin table, and were gazing at Emily with such a unanimously powerful stare that it sent shivers straight through her.

"The one set of bastards that we can never seem to get through to," Anne said. "I would tell them to bugger off, but they won't listen to a damned word I say."

Emily didn't want to look anymore, but it was like she was hypnotized. Each one of these boys held her gaze with a powerful fascination, and she couldn't look away. She scanned over each pair of eyes, inquiringly.

Then, she locked with a pair of piercing blue ones, and Emily's heart almost gave way with fear. Her jaw dropped subtly, and her hands shook under the table. The boy gave her a smirk, and a slight nod of acknowledgment, before turning his eyes away to talk to his comrades.

The moment he did, the collective gaze of the boys broke, and they turned back in their seats, leaving Emily's heart frantically beating, and feeling slighting nauseous.

"Are you okay?" Julie asked immediately, putting a comforting arm around her shoulder. "You look… pale."

"That's because she is pale," Anne said obviously.

"Anne!" Mackenzie snapped, "She means paler than normal. Are you sick, Emily?"

Emily swallowed, and shut her eyes for a moment, before insisting, "I'm fine. I'm okay."

The rest of dinner went without a hitch. The girls all found things to talk about, whether it be their classes for the year, or boys in those classes. Emily had never really had friends that talked about things like this. It was all new and exciting, so she was eager to contribute whatever she could to the conversation, and the girls were happy to include her. Emily's spirits soared at this newfound friendship, planting a sort of airless contentment inside her. She was comfortable with these girls. They made her feel welcome.

"… and I told him to leave me alone. That was the last straw; I just couldn't take it anymore." Julie explained.

"You should have done that a long time ago," Anne said with a mouthful of food. "He's creepy, and clearly has no boundaries. You could have been hurt."

"I can take care of myself, Anne, but thanks for your concern," Julie said with a genuine smile. Mackenzie turned to Emily.

"What about you, Em? What's your relationship history like?"

Emily's eyes flickered around the table, a laugh bubbling on the edges of her lips at the absurd, girish expressions plastered on her friends faces.

"I, uh… I've never really been in one, honestly."

Three jaws dropped.

"You're kidding, right?" Anne prodded, "I mean… right?"

"No. I've never really had any interest in the boys where i lived... They were all snobby or immature."

"But there has to have been someone," Julie insisted, "a teacher you had a crush on, or some summer fling."

"Nope," Emily shrugged, "never."

A moment of pure silence. Then, Anne spoke.

"Well, I've officially seen it all."

"Anne-" Mackenzie started.

"What? This girl is beautiful, incredibly nice, and she's never been in a relationship! I mean, what is this world coming to?"

"Really, guys, it's alright. Maybe things will be different here." Emily pondered.

"They will be, Em," Julie agreed, "Just you wait. Hogwarts is fantastic."

Just then, the headmaster stood at his podium and the hall fell silent once more. The girls all turned their heads to hear what he had to say. Emily listened intently for a moment or two, but there wasn't really much to hear, and that feeling of eyes on the back of her neck had returned. Deciding to risk it, she cocked her neck a bit, and in the corner of her eye, she knew that the boy was staring at her again.


End file.
